


Sahel

by theladyscribe



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Captain Marvel (Marvel), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Queer Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 11:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2466425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyscribe/pseuds/theladyscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no bench, so Bucky leans against the railing of the handicap ramp while he reads over his papers again. They're clinical: "You have been certified 1-A by the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps. To complete your enlistment in the Jaeger Academy, report to Recruiting Station 482 on 17 April 2016. You will be assigned further instructions after completion of the final assessment." There's more, bunches of numbers and letters meant to explain his test results, probably, but they don't mean a damn thing to him.</p><p>*</p><p>Steve and Bucky join the PPDC. Bucky's not so sure how he feels about it, but he's working through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sahel

**Author's Note:**

> Art for the story by toweroawesome, hosted at Deviantart:  
> \- [Cover Art](http://toweroawesome.deviantart.com/art/Sahel-Cover-Art-488954427)  
> \- [Steve and Bucky in the Kwoon](http://toweroawesome.deviantart.com/art/Steve-and-Bucky-Spar-488952514)  
> \- [_Liberty Sentinel_ under construction](http://toweroawesome.deviantart.com/art/Jeager-Pacific-Rim-488953575)  
>  \- [Steve and Bucky in the cockpit](http://toweroawesome.deviantart.com/art/Pacific-Rim-Jaeger-cockpit-with-Steve-and-Bucky-488954735)

**Sahel**

The recruiting station in Williamsburg is packed with kids, half of them looking barely old enough to be out of junior high, let alone signing up for the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps. Bucky knows there's been a major push for recruitment--how can he not, with Steve talking about it non-stop--but he can't help finding it strange that all these East Coast kids want to risk their necks for some glory on the other side of the world. That's maybe a little rich, considering the fact that he's standing on line to sign up himself, but he's not here for the street cred or whatever. He's here mostly to make sure Steve doesn't get himself in a fight if they reject him.

Steve hasn't stopped talking about the PPDC since its formation was first announced after the destruction of San Francisco and Manila. Now that they're actively recruiting from outside the military, it's gotten even worse. Bucky is pretty sure Steve sets alerts on his phone to remind him to talk about it. He comes home from work with the latest news about PPDC and its programs, never mind that the militarization of the West Coast has fuck all to do with his job as a children's book illustrator.

Bucky gets it, he does, he gets that Steve has a chip on his shoulder from being turned down by every branch of the military and the NYFD when he tried to join up after high school. He understands that Steve wants nothing more than to protect people, the same as their dads had done and died for. He gets it, he _does_ , but he is also pretty sure another rejection might kill that spark of determination in his best friend for good.

Steve, of course, doesn't see it that way at all, and there is no trying to convince him.

Long story short, when the recruiting station opened, it was really only a matter of time before the two of them found themselves there.

The man at the front desk hands them clipboards full of medical forms with a grunt, indicating that they should take seats alongside the dozen other idiots there with them. Bucky flies through the forms, impatiently drawing a line through the "No" column rather than really reading the questions about whether he's had emphysema or has a parent with emphysema or has ever known anyone who might have it. When he gets to the last page, he signs his name with a flourish and sits back to wait while Steve finishes filling in the details of every childhood ailment he's ever been diagnosed with.

When he's done scribbling his name in the chicken scratch that Mother Margaret never trained out of him, Bucky holds out his hand for the clipboard. "Want me to take it?"

"Thanks."

Bucky delivers the forms, and the man at the front desk eyeballs him before saying, "We'll call you when we're ready for you."

He goes back to his seat and glances around the waiting room. They're not the only two from their part of Greenpoint: Bucky recognizes Giorgio from the pharmacy and Aliyah from the coffee shop on Meserole. He nods at them both, but nobody seems much interested in talking, too intent on the report playing on the TV in the corner about the latest attack in Tokyo. The news keeps replaying the same shaky cell phone footage of _Brigand Blue_ taking out Onibaba, the monster's last moments captured like so many Vines. Bucky turns to talk to Steve, but he's pulled out his phone, answering emails from work. Bucky's phone is dead, so he stares at his hands, waiting for his name to be called.

"James Barnes." The words startle him, and he looks up to see a sharp-faced woman holding a clipboard.

She leads him into an examination room, where he's put through a basic physical as she asks him the same questions as the ones he answered on the medical forms. She makes humming noises as he answers, and he's not sure if they're the good sort of humming or if they mean he's gonna be 4-F or something. Once she's poked and prodded him to her satisfaction, she has him put his clothes back on and takes him to another exam room.

This room has a team of doctors and a weird looking machine that involves taping sensors to his skull to test his brain waves. There's more humming, more note-taking, more questions, this time about things like traumatic memories, whether he's ever taken hallucinogenics, and if he ever has sex dreams. Bucky's not sure what any of these have to do with his ability to pilot a robot, but he answers dutifully: no more traumatic memories than anyone else from New York City, he took E once at a rave and wound up missing a week of work because of it, and yes, doesn't everyone?

When he's been thoroughly interrogated about his mental health, they send him to a _third_ exam room, where he's given a questionnaire, a bubble sheet, an essay book, and a pencil. The proctor tells him he has one hour to complete the exam, the man in the ill-fitting suit sitting at his desk and watching him the entire time.

Bucky's not sure what the point of the essay test is, because he finishes it, walks out the door, and is handed his papers. It doesn't shock him at all to see the 1-A stamp or to be handed instructions that he's to report back to the recruiting station next Tuesday. He tries to ignore the sick feeling in his gut as he goes outside to wait for Steve.

There's no bench, so Bucky leans against the railing of the handicap ramp while he reads over his papers again. They're clinical: "You have been certified 1-A by the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps. To complete your enlistment in the Jaeger Academy, report to Recruiting Station 482 on 17 April 2016. You will be assigned further instructions after completion of the final assessment." There's more, bunches of numbers and letters meant to explain his test results, probably, but they don't mean a damn thing to him.

He sighs and kicks at a rock on the sidewalk, sending it skipping along the concrete. He wonders idly what would happen if he didn't show up, if he never completes the "final assessment." He wonders whether they'll come knocking if he doesn't show up on Tuesday.

"Not the outcome you wanted?" asks a voice off to his side.

Bucky looks up to see a dark-haired woman smoking a cigarette and peering at him intently. She's older, probably in her late thirties at least, and British judging by her accent. He waves his papers.

"I'm in." He tries to sound enthusiastic, but can't quite get there, judging by the way the woman looks at him.

"Not the outcome you wanted," she repeats, not a question this time.

Bucky finds himself trying to explain anyway. "It's not that I don't think the Jaeger program's important--it _is_ \--but I came with my friend, mostly to support him, and Steve's a great guy, and he wants in bad, but I know they're gonna reject him."

The woman raises an eyebrow as she flicks ash on the ground. "You sound pretty certain of that."

"Yeah, well, if you saw him, you'd understand why there's no way he'll ever be a pilot." He looks glumly at his shoes. "Not that I'd ever tell him that--he'd hate me for saying it, even though he knows--he's my best friend, and we've been through a lot together, but this rejection might kill him. And I can't--"

"There you are, Buck." Steve's voice cuts his words short.

Bucky's ears burn as he turns to look at him, schooling his features so he won't give away his relief at the disappointment on Steve's face. He's surprised to find Steve with a wide grin, holding out his papers also stamped 1-A.

Bucky blinks in surprise as Steve asks him, "When do you report?"

"Tuesday for final assessment."

Steve's smile widens. "Me too. Hey, whaddya say we go get some lunch? I could do with an egg cream after being treated like a science experiment all morning."

Bucky shoves his orders in his pocket and slings an arm across Steve's shoulders, relief washing through him. "I'd like nothing more, pal." He nods at the woman grinding her cigarette out under her heel and tries to ignore the way her eyes bore into the back of his skull as they walk down the street.

*

The two of them report to the recruiting station on Tuesday just like they're supposed to. There's another sour-faced man at the front desk this time, and when they give him their names, he buzzes them into a separate waiting room, where they sit with a much smaller crowd than the one from last Thursday.

They're called back together and taken to another examination room that Bucky privately thinks looks like an interrogation room. They've only been waiting for a minute or so when the woman with the cigarette from the other day walks in, files in her hands.

She sets the files down on the table, and Bucky sees his name on one, Steve's on the other.

"Hello again, Mr. Barnes," she says with a smile like a shark. Bucky finds it unsettling. She turns toward Steve. "And you're the friend I heard so much about. We didn't have time to be properly introduced the other day, but you must be Steve Rogers. My name is Margaret Carter, and I'm here to talk to you about the PPDC's Jaeger program."

"Don't see why you need to talk to us. We're already in it, aren't we?" It's rude, but this woman sets him on edge, and he wants to unsettle her as much as she's unsettled him. He knows it will probably be a futile endeavor, but he'll take any edge he can get.

"Bucky!" Steve hisses.

Bucky ignores the elbow jabbed in his side, keeping his eyes on Ms. Carter, whose attention has snapped back to him.

"And how much do you know about the Jaeger program, Mr. Barnes?"

"I watch the news. I know enough."

Carter looks like she's waiting for him to expound on his statement. Bucky stares sullenly back.

He knows it's part of the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps, which is technically not military since it's international, though judging by the titles of all the people on the news (Gen. Phillips, Lt. Munroe, Maj. Richards) most everyone is ex-military anyway. Or used to be, since they're now recruiting kids right out of college. The recruitment program's still pretty new, but everybody wants in. Pilots are celebrities, and the best are treated like kings. It's a hell of a draw for people who are overeducated and underemployed. It's also a hell of a draw for people like Steve, whose life mission is to fight anything and everything that's bigger than he is. Bucky's not about to let all that slip, though.

"It's the PPDC's military wing," Steve pipes up, unable to ever keep his trap shut when Bucky's trying to hold a silent game of chicken with somebody. "Dual-piloted robots designed to withstand the Kaiju attacks and protect the Pacific coasts."

Carter holds Bucky's gaze for half a moment longer before turning to Steve.

"It's good to know at least one of you is aware what he's getting himself into," she says with a small smile for Steve. She continues, all business, "You both scored high marks across the board, not just on the standardized exam but on the physical and cognitive tests as well."

Steve looks like he's about to protest--he may be able to pass a routine physical, but nobody will ever accuse him of being in the best of health--but Carter holds a hand up to stop him.

"Before you ask, Mr. Rogers, our standards of fitness are different from those of the military. And besides, piloting a Jaeger isn't just about physical ability--physical fitness isn't even _half_ of it. Far more importantly, you must be a perfect neural match with your co-pilot. We don't talk about it much outside the PPDC, but Jaegers are moved via a neural connection between the pilots. It's psychologically taxing; it can even be fatal if the pilots are not Drift compatible. We've found this connection is generally strongest between blood relatives and romantic partners."

Bucky scoffs. "Steve and I ain't either of those. Sorry, lady."

Steve hisses, "Bucky!" again, but Bucky starts to stand, more than ready to be done with this bullshit.

Carter slaps a hand on the table, snapping, "Mr. Barnes, if you do not sit down and let me finish, I will make you sorry you ever wasted the PPDC's time."

It startles him enough to bring him up short, and he falls heavily back into his seat. Steve's glaring at him, and Carter's face is unreadable as she takes a deep breath.

"As I was saying, the neural connection tends to be strongest between kin relations. However, that's not always the case. People who have other close connections--often romantic, but sometimes platonic--can be just as effective as those with genetic compatibility. Judging by the scores on your neural exams, the two of you have one of the strongest neural connections we have seen since the program began recruiting. Your results were off the charts, surpassing even the best pilots in the system, but that same strength can easily become a weakness. It's unlikely we'd be able to match either of you with anyone else."

She pauses, letting that sink in.

"It's gotta be both of us or neither of us?" Steve says after a moment.

"That's not a certainty, Mr. Rogers," she admits, "but based on our analysis, most likely yes."

"And what if one of us doesn't make it through the training?" Bucky asks, because somebody has to, and he doesn't want it to be Steve. No one's going to say it, definitely not Bucky, but of the two of them, Steve's the more likely to have to leave the program, going by health alone.

"You wouldn't be the first pilots to be dropped from the program." She eyes both of them and says, "Recruitment does not guarantee placement in the Jaeger program. Our initial assessments help us weed out anyone entirely unsuitable, but it's not until we begin training that we are able to fully determine your suitability as pilots."

Bucky barely suppresses an eyeroll at the jargon as she continues, "I am telling you this now because I want you both to be aware that should one of you fail out of the program, it's quite likely the other will not have a Drift-compatible partner." She's looking dead-on at Bucky as she says this, and he knows she thinks he's the one who'll knock them both out of the program.

"What's the likelihood that happens?"

"That depends entirely on you, Mr. Barnes. If you prove yourself incapable of being trained, we will not hesitate to drop you. If you exceed expectations, you could be piloting a Jaeger by the end of the year."

"When do we report?" Steve asks.

"They'll be expecting you at the Marine Air Terminal at LaGuardia a week from Saturday." She slides papers out of the folders sitting on the desk. "You'll need to sign the contracts; your copies will have the rest of your instructions."

She hands them both blue pens; Steve doesn't even read the disclaimers before he signs his name.

Bucky takes his time, staring down at the contract but not really comprehending the words. He thinks about their lives here in in New York, about how he's working his way through grad school at CUNY, and Steve's moving up through Little Golden's art department. Their lives right now are steady, bordering on boring sometimes, but comfortable. They've got good friends, routines, a regular booth at the diner down the block from their apartment. They're making rent and then some, and they don't really have any need for more. It's a good life, the sort people daydream about.

And then he thinks about what Carter's told them, how his and Steve's neural whatever was off the charts, and how it's both or neither of them. He briefly wonders what Steve would do if Bucky backed out here and now. Knowing Steve, he probably wouldn't even resent him for it, and they'd go back to their comfortable lives.

Steve might be able to forgive him for saying no, but Bucky doesn't think he'd be able to forgive himself for walking away.

He signs his full name when he gets to the bottom of the contract.

Carter smiles as she takes the contracts from them, a real smile that makes her face light up and relaxes the tension around her eyes that Bucky hadn't even noticed until now. "Welcome to the Jaeger program, boys."

*

The PPDC doesn't send them to California like Bucky had secretly hoped, shipping them off to rainy Seattle for training instead. Bucky wrinkles his nose at the steady drizzle and at Steve practically skipping through the puddles on the tarmac.

"You're gonna get pneumonia and die before we even get to the Shatterdome," Bucky tells him, and Steve has the gall to throw his head back and laugh.

"The only reason I got pneumonia that one time is because Jacob Bukowski dunked my head in the iced-over fountain in Prospect Park, and you know it."

He does know it, but that doesn't keep Bucky from worrying about it. Steve knows that, which is probably why he stops splashing his way through the puddles to hitch his duffle higher and shove his hands in his pockets.

Once inside the terminal, they're greeted by a woman in a smart uniform who introduces herself as Lieutenant May. "You're the last of our arrivals, so if you'll follow me."

She takes them to a bus, and they stow their bags and board to find only two empty seats about halfway back, diagonal to each other. There's a handsome blonde woman with military bearing in the window seat on the right, a striking dark-haired woman in the one to the left. Bucky's in front of Steve, so being the good friend that he is, he takes the seat next to the blonde.

"Bout time you two showed up," the woman says with a twinkle in her eye. "Was beginning to think I might actually have to have some leg room on the ride to the Shatterdome."

"You're welcome," Bucky returns with a grin. "God forbid anybody got extra legroom on a Greyhound."

"Carol Danvers." She sticks her hand out and gives his a firm shake. "Formerly Air Force, then NASA, now, PPDC."

"Bucky Barnes. Formerly of McNally Jackson Books in Manhattan, now PPDC, I guess."

"So you're one of the newbies? Not sure but what you'll be at an advantage to us military types. I'm not looking forward to being bottom rung on the ladder again."

He laughs and turns to tell Steve that it might be a good thing he never got into the Guard, only to find him in quiet but animated conversation with the woman beside him. He doesn't want to interrupt, so he turns back to Carol and asks her about NASA.

*

When they arrive at the Shatterdome, Lt. May and two other lieutenants introduced as Hand and Sitwell divide the two buses of recruits into three groups. The technical corps goes with Sitwell (including the brunette Steve breathlessly introduces as "Maria Hill, from Chicago"), the operations corps with Hand, and the pilot corps with May.

May leads them through the complex, pointing out places of interest, before taking them to their room assignments. The rooms are somewhere between barracks and dormitories; they have the austerity of an army barracks but the compactness of dorms. Trainees are housed four to a room alphabetically, with no apparent regard for gender. Bucky and Carol are with a guy named Barton and another named Cage; Steve's with a scion of the Rand family, a British guy named Shorr, and a woman by the name of Takahama. They're told to get settled in and meet back in the mess hall at 1600 for the official tour and orientation before dinner.

Once they've stowed their bags and claimed their bunks (Carol takes the top bunk, Bucky the bottom), Carol disappears to find the showers, leaving Bucky to chat with Barton and Cage. Barton's been in Seattle for a couple weeks already, having been recruited from Kansas City, but Cage had been on the other bus today.

"They haven't done much with us yet," Barton tells them. "Easier to train everyone starting in the same place than having to go back and re-teach things, I guess."

They talk for a while before Steve and Danny Rand find them, and the five of them trace their steps back to the mess hall.

Dinner's a rowdy affair, with Barton warning everyone within shouting distance that the food isn't going to improve any so they might as well get used to it.

Their table is filled out by Hill and an attractive operations corps member named Sam Wilson that Bucky and Steve both take an immediate shine to, and the entire group talks over each other, forging fast friendships. When Bucky gets up to get some dessert, he has three orders to "bring me some too," and he beats it before he has to carry back an entire sheet cake. As he walks back to the buffet, he thinks maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

*

The training schedule becomes routine: reveille at 0600, breakfast at 0630, followed by an unrelenting cycle of exercise (yoga, cardio, sparring, weight training, more cardio, more sparring, and incessant sessions of yoga), technical training ("In case you have to do maintenance while on mission," is the explanation given when Barton whines about it) operations training (including, somewhat bizarrely, oceanography taught by a young doctor of astrophysics) ("The ocean's really just space under water," Dr. Foster says in their first session with her).

By the time they get to hit the showers at 1800--an hour before they get dinner--Bucky is dead on his feet. The evenings are completely free, with the rec rooms, chapel, and gym free to anyone who wants to use them. Half the time, Bucky just wants to crash, but he usually finds himself dicking around wherever Steve happens to be.

The technical and operations corps have similar schedules, with noticeably less exercise and more instruction in their fields. Bucky likes that they're not completely separated, because it means there are people who can talk about things other than take-downs and weight-lifting at meal-times. He and Steve have become fast friends with Hill and Wilson, and their group--which also includes Carol, Barton, and a technician named Jessica Drew--has started a mock feud with Rand, Cage, and a cadre of technicians.

The pilots are graded daily on their performance in the exercise sessions, their scores posted on the digital board in the lockers every evening. It's not just the Seattle Shatterdome--the scores for all of the new recruits across the PPDC are listed (he's not sure how they rank everyone accurately with the time differences and the international dateline but whatever). Bucky doesn't pay much attention to the rankings himself, but he knows there are people who choose the gym over the rec room after dinner, depending on whether they've gone up or down.

Carol's one of these, and so is Steve, which means Bucky finds himself spending more time in the gym than he really means to, keeping an eye on Steve while pretending to be busy with the heavy bag. Steve knows what he's up to, but so far hasn't said anything, probably because Bucky's not had to coach him through an asthma attack yet. He's expecting a confrontation any day now, though, has felt the prickle of tension between them that means Steve's gearing himself up for a fight. He doesn't let that change his routine, refusing to give an inch in the face of Steve's stubbornness.

"Here, let me help with that," Bucky says one evening when Steve's bench-pressing 70 lbs.

"Nope." He starts his second set, arms straining.

"You sure?" Bucky reaches over to spot him.

Steve lifts the bar and lets it fall into the rack with a clang. He sits up and glares at Bucky. "I said I don't need any help." The vehemence in his voice takes Bucky aback.

"Sorry, just wanted to--"

"Well, I don't need it." Steve stands and starts removing the weights from the bar. "If I want your help, I'll goddamn ask for it."

He puts the last of the weights on the stand and stomps away, headed for the heavy bags on the other side of the gym. Bucky stares after him, his own temper starting to bubble up.

He's about to start after Steve when a hand on his arm stops him. He turns to see Carol. "Come spar with me, Barnes. You look like you need a break from the free weights." She half-drags him toward the mats, pulling until he follows.

Carol doesn't give him time to dwell on Steve's outburst, launching straight into an acrobatic offensive. He has to focus all his efforts on keeping her from knocking him down or pushing him off the mats, barely giving him a moment to defend himself, let alone think about anything other than parrying her punches.

She gets him on the ground in less than two minutes only to offer a hand and say, "Again."

This time, Bucky's better prepared for her onslaught, and he's able to take the offensive, only to be knocked off his feet again when he catches sight of Steve out of the corner of his eye. Bucky dusts himself off and says, "Best three out of five?"

"Why not?" Carol says, helping him to his feet. "I've got nowhere to be for the next minute and a half."

When Bucky has her pinned beneath him two minutes later, she just grins and says, "There's the Bucky I know and love."

Three out of five stretches into four out of seven, and a good twenty minutes later, they've collected a ring of bystanders. Bucky's aware that Steve is among the crowd, standing with Hill and Wilson, probably critiquing both his and Carol's movements under his breath. When the thought doesn't reignite his bad mood, Bucky knows he's ready to tap out. He lets Carol take him down with a quick flip and moves off the mat for water and a towel.

He's not too surprised to find Steve waiting for him by the water fountain.

"That was some sloppy form in the last round," he says while Bucky drinks.

He wipes at his mouth as he rises. "Yep."

"You gotta keep your hands up, or you're gonna get that pretty face of yours smashed."

Bucky at least has the wherewithal not to point out that Steve is historically the one of the two of them in danger of getting his face broken, always too stubborn to stand down from a fight he had no chance of winning.

"Carol wouldn't smash my face. She likes it too much."

Steve snorts. "She's probably been knocked in the head too many times to know better."

"Hey! You be nice to Carol. She's the best roommate I ever had."

"I thought I was the best roommate you ever had."

Bucky shrugs and says, "I only said that 'cause you were my only roommate. Carol's much better."

"Jerk," Steve laughs, shoving him. Bucky responds by wrapping an arm around his shoulders and rubbing his sweaty hair into Steve's neck. It makes Steve squawk and shove at him harder.

"Gross! Stop that! Stop!" Steve laughs, probably getting a mouthful of Bucky's hair for his trouble.

Bucky relents, leaving his arm around Steve's shoulders and leading him toward the benches set around the perimeter of the room.

Steve purses his lips as they sink onto a seat. "Don't know if you've noticed," he starts quietly, "but I'm not a ninety-pound asthmatic any more. Haven't been for a long time, and your--your coddling isn't really necessary."

Bucky stops short, dropping his arm from Steve's shoulder and feeling his cheeks burn. He knows Steve has mostly outgrown all his childhood ailments, that he hasn't been really sick in years, that he actually is average height and weight, but when he looks at his best friend, he still sees the kid breathing into a paper bag on the first day of school because he ran too fast on the playground, the one that got himself beat up on a regular basis trying to help the even smaller kids. Watching him push himself here at the training center has brought back the fears he thought they'd both outgrown.

When he doesn't speak, Steve starts up again. "I know you mean to protect me, but it's suffocating sometimes. You gotta let me be."

Bucky hunches his shoulders. "I know. I just. What happens when you don't need me any more?"

Steve turns fully toward him, eyes wide in disbelief. "You stupid son of a-- Bucky, I may not need you to coax me through an asthma attack or to finish a fight with a bully, but that doesn't mean I don't need you to be my friend."

"Yeah, well, I need you not to overdo it. Those rankings aren't the end-all, be-all."

Steve looks chagrined. "I know," he says quietly. "I just really want this, y'know?"

"I know." He shifts and bumps their shoulders. "You just gotta take it easy sometimes, okay?"

"Okay."

Steve continues to watch the pilot rankings like a hawk, spending extra time in the gym every chance he gets, but easing back when Bucky suggests he take a break. He takes to working with people from the tech and ops corps, teaching Hill and Wilson moves that aren't covered in their shared classes because teaching them helps him remember the motions. He gets Bucky to help, too, by promising that they'll only spend half the evening in the gym.

The other half is spent hanging out in the rec room or the mess hall, playing pool or ping pong in the former, cards in the latter. Bucky learns real quick not to play poker with Hill because she'll clear you of your entire candy stash in one go. He privately thinks she's entirely too damn smart for this entire outfit. A part of him finds her terrifying in the same way that Agent Carter woman was terrifying: frighteningly competent at practically everything and completely unafraid to prove it. He's glad she's a friend, because he'd hate to be her enemy.

They're playing cards one night (without making bets) when Maria says, "So what's with you and Steve?"

"Huh?" Bucky isn't sure what she's talking about, because he and Steve have resolved their fight; they've already forgiven and forgotten. He sets down his match and nods at her to go.

Maria's concentrating on her cards a little too closely as she says, "Just wondering if you two were a-- thing."

Bucky snorts. "If by 'thing,' you mean 'couple,' the answer is no. Even if Steve were queer, the answer'd still be an emphatic no. It'd be like dating my brother."

Maria smirks. "Some people go for that sort of thing, you know. Got any aces?"

Bucky makes a face and says, "Go fish."

She draws and nods at Bucky to go.

"Fours?"

Maria wrinkles her nose and hands over two cards. "Queens?"

"Go fish." Bucky takes a drink and then says, "Things'll go faster if you make the first move."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Barnes." Maria's lips purse almost imperceptibly.

"Sure you don't. Got any fives?"

"Go fish."

Bucky draws an ace and tucks it into his growing hand of cards. "Steve's always been shit at wooing girls. Part of it's 'cause he gets tongue-tied, but mostly it's because he's oblivious when somebody likes him back. You wanna be more than friends, you're best off telling him so."

"He's never gotten tongue-tied around me," Maria points out. "Aces?"

Bucky hands over his card with a sigh, and she grins as she lays the four aces down. "He doesn't get tongue-tied around you because he met you on a bus on the best day of his life. Pretty sure he coulda made friends with the Duchess of Cambridge without breaking a sweat that day."

Maria barks out a laugh. "The Duchess of Cambridge?"

"Fives?" Maria hands a card over, still chuckling. "And yeah, he'll kill me for telling you this, but he's had a crush on Kate Middleton for _years_."

Hill smiles. "That's good to know. Now give me that pair of jacks I know you've got tucked away."

*

The training runs for ten weeks, during which the lowest ranks are dropped from the program with extreme prejudice. One day they're there, and the next, there's half a dozen empty bunks in the pilot barracks. (They find out later that it's the same for the operations and technical corps: Wilson lost all three of his roommates, Drew lost two of hers, and Hill one.)

Sometime in week seven, Bucky complains at dinner that the system's an utter mindfuck, and Carol just laughs at him. "Not sure what you expected, Barnes. PPDC's not exactly gunning for Miss Congeniality."

"Says the person obsessing over the mysterious James Rhodes in Ensenada," he snarks back, smirking at the way Carol's face reddens. At this point, both Carol and Steve have worked themselves to the top of the rankings, Steve in the number one spot by a couple points, the Rhodes guy in second, and Carol just a half-point behind him.

(It still feels strange, but Steve has flourished under the grueling system. Bucky doesn't know if it's the Pacific Coast air, the strict diet and exercise regimen, or what, but his scrawny best friend really is in the best health he's ever been. He's well-liked among both the rank-and-file and the higher-ups, and Bucky'd be jealous if he weren't so damn proud. He never would have resisted joining up if he'd known this would happen.)

"I just want to know what it is he's got that I don't," says Carol imperiously.

Bucky just smirks, but Steve's the one who pipes up with, "Probably a dick," before getting embarrassed by his own joke.

The end of week ten comes with a flurry of activity as the pilots prepare for the Kwoon trials. They'll all be shipped to the Hong Kong Shatterdome, the biggest and oldest of the Domes, where all of the remaining pilots-in-training will be matched with their Jaeger partners. Bucky's not too concerned about it, because he and Steve are all but guaranteed to be matched. Agent Carter's words about their neural connection still echo in his head occasionally, and now that they've been through training, he actually knows what it means to be Drift compatible. It's really just a fancy way of saying that they're attached at the hip--which he and Steve have been since they were eight. But he knows Carol and some of the others who haven't really meshed with anyone here in Seattle are tying themselves up in knots about finding a partner.

He tries to distract Carol as much as he can, but she's got an obsessively competitive streak a mile wide, and the fact that she's still a fraction of a point behind the mysterious James Rhodes is making her crazy and not a lot of fun to be around.

It's actually Steve who figures out how to distract her the night before they're supposed to leave for Hong Kong. He and Wilson kick everybody out of the rec room after dinner, promising it'll be worth the wait.

An hour later, they finally unlock the doors, and everybody pushes inside to find the place has been decorated with tinsel and a disco ball (where the hell they found a disco ball is beyond Bucky). They've pushed the pool tables up against the walls so there's room for dancing in the center. A turntable plays big band music (Steve's favorite, the hipster), and one of the ping-pong tables is laden with suspicious-looking punch and cookies.

"Nobody's allowed to even think about the Kwoon trials or the ops runs or the tech builds until dawn," Steve announces. "Instead, we are dancing the night away."

Bucky catches his eye and gives him a look that he hopes conveys his amusement that Steve "I don't dance" Rogers has put together a dance party.

Steve just grins and grabs his hand, saying, "Bucky's gonna start us off."

Bucky pulls away. "Ohhh no you don't, Stevie. This is your party, I think you should start us off."

"Yeah, it's my party, and that means I get to decide who starts the dancing." Steve tries to glare, but the effect is ruined by the way his mouth curves upward at the corners.

Sam rolls his eyes at both of them and says, "If we're waiting on you two pansy white boys to get this party started, we're gonna be standing around like awkward teenagers all night." He holds out a hand and says, "Maria, if you don't mind."

Maria grins and says, "It would be my pleasure, Sam."

They practically float onto the dance floor in a move that looks suspiciously choreographed.

Bucky raises an eyebrow at Steve. "How long have you two been planning this party?"

"Coupla weeks." They watch as more people join Sam and Maria on the dance floor.

"You gonna make a move before Wilson snatches her up?" Bucky asks after a moment.

"Dunno what you're talking about," Steve says, trying for nonchalant and failing.

Bucky elbows him. "She likes you, y'know."

"We're just friends."

"Sure." He pauses. "If you're waiting because you don't know if we'll be sent to the same Dome as her, you shouldn't. Think it'd be worse if you never say anything at all than if you're on opposite sides of the ocean."

Steve hums in the way that means he heard Bucky and he'll take it into consideration but do whatever he wants to do.

The record ends, and Steve heads toward the music table, but Barton reaches it first, plugging in an iPod and nearly deafening everyone with the opening riff of "You Shook Me All Night Long." Bucky watches as Barton and Steve squabble over the music, Steve finally relenting when he realizes that everyone's loosening up, his mission to take their minds off Hong Kong working its magic.

The evening passes in a blur of color and sound, laughter mixing with the music. Near midnight, Bucky steps out of the rec room to get some air only to find Steve sitting in the hall doing the same.

"Done with your own party already?"

"Ha. Just needed to cool off. You?"

Bucky slides down the wall to sit next to him. "The same. That and your punch was starting to get to me. What'd you put in it?"

"The punch was all Sam. Think he raided the kitchen and poured every bottle of alcohol he found into it. Even the cooking wine."

Bucky makes a face. "No kidding."

Steve taps his fingers against his knee in time to the thump of the bass coming from the rec room. It's a tick he's had for as long as Bucky's known him, and it usually means he's got something on his mind. Bucky waits it out, and finally Steve says, "You ready for tomorrow?"

Bucky answers, "Guess so. You?"

Steve moves his fingers from his knee to his mouth, chews at a nail almost absently. Bucky resists the urge to swat his hand; he had to give up any hope of breaking that particular bad habit a long time ago.

"Seems weird, doesn't it?" Steve says around his fingers.

"Little bit, yeah." Bucky gives in and bats Steve's hand away from his mouth.

Steve gives him a sheepish look and presses his hands between his knees.

"Think that Carter lady'll be there?"

"You gonna punch her if she is, Buck?"

"No," he snorts. "Just don't want her standing around and judging me. Don't think she likes me very much."

"Maybe that's 'cause you mouthed off to her so much when we were signing up. You're lucky she didn't kick you clear into Jersey."

"Yeah, yeah. Excuse me for wanting to know what we were really signing on for. Some of us aren't so dead-set on being big damn heroes."

Steve looks at him sharply. "You do want to do this, don't you? I mean, you're not just here because of me, right?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean, yes, I want to do this. No, it's not just 'cause of you, Steve. Not everything's about you, you big egomaniac."

As soon as he says it, he knows it's true. He might've been dubious about the whole enterprise at the start (and he's still not totally sold that fighting aliens with robots is going to win the war), but the past couple months have given him a purpose, beyond making sure Steve doesn't die of his own stubbornness. He's not sure he'd be happy to go back to their old lives anymore.

Steve grins and shoves at him. "Good. I'd hate to have to tell Father McDowell that you succumbed to peer pressure at last."

Bucky's about to retort that he succumbed to Steve's particular brand of peer pressure a long time ago when a voice says, "Oh, there you are!"

The two of them look up to see Maria, bright-eyed and pink-cheeked, smiling at Steve. "Sam wrestled control of the music back from Clint. We're back to Artie Shaw, at least until Clint stages another coup." She holds a hand out. "Come dance."

Steve glances back at Bucky, who just waves him on. "Go. I'll be there in a minute."

Bucky waits for the door to shut behind them before leaning his head back against the wall. He wishes he could stop time right here, never let it move forward or back, just freeze everything in place here and now. He's happy, here in their rainy corner of the West Coast, and if he could stay here forever, he would. The thought's startling, for all that it's true, and he shuts his eyes and takes a few deep breaths before he gets up to rejoin the party.

*

Bucky didn't think it was possible for anywhere to be more rainy than Seattle, but then they land in Hong Kong, where it's raining so hard they actually sit on the tarmac for half an hour before disembarking.

When the sky clears enough that they won't drown on the short walk from the plane to the Dome, everyone makes a run for it. They're ushered inside, and it's a bit like the first day in Seattle all over again. The pilots are given their room assignments and told to report back in time for dinner. The trials will begin in the morning, and from there, the new teams will be assigned both a Jaeger and a Shatterdome.

The trial schedule is posted in the hall before dinner, with the highest rankings first, their trial partners in a neat column next to their names. Bucky isn't shocked to see his name beside Steve's, but he _is_ surprised that they haven't even bothered to test Steve with other recruits. Apparently Agent Carter hadn't been kidding that it was all or nothing with the two of them.

Weirdly, Carol is listed next to the mysterious James Rhodes, though there are also two other names with hers (and three more candidates beside her name, where she's ranked third). This news sends Carol into a flurry of panic which is quickly subsumed by her determination to prove herself.

"I'll show him half a point!" she declares, and Bucky laughingly reminds her it's not supposed to be a competition.

"Remember, Danvers, it's a dance, not a bar brawl," he says, quoting Lt. May's admonition to Steve from the first day of training.

"Yeah, yeah." She turns to Steve, who's been quietly eating dumplings. "You two are bunking together while we're here. What's he like?"

Steve shrugs. "Seemed alright to me. Didn't say much except that he was a lieutenant colonel in the Air Force."

"You mean I _outrank_ him? And he's still got me beat? Oh, it is _on_ like Donkey Kong, my friends. Just you wait."

After supper ends, the officials advise all of the pilots to get some rest, pointing out that jet lag or no jet lag, they all have to fight tomorrow. Bucky kicks around for a little while, walking through the common areas of the HK Dome, trying to shake off the second wind that hit after he showered.

He wanders back to the dorms but can't seem to sleep, tossing and turning until Carol finally mutters, "Why don't you go punch something for a while?"

"Good idea," he mumbles back, and he slips out of bed and heads to the gym.

He shouldn't be surprised to find Steve there as well, punching combinations on the heavy bag. Steve looks up when he hears him approach, gives him a crooked grin, and says, "Wanna go a couple rounds?"

"Not really." He winks. "Don't wanna give away all my moves for tomorrow."

Steve throws his head back and laughs as he unwinds the tape from his hands. "Buck, I've seen all your moves already, and I know how terrible they are."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

Bucky telegraphs the move, but Steve lets him throw him to the ground. The two of them wrestle gleefully for a few minutes before Steve shoves a hand up his shirt and hits the ticklish spot just below Bucky's ribcage. Bucky yelps and tries to move away, but Steve locks him in, tickling without mercy.

"Stop! Stop! Uncle!" Bucky gasps, and Steve lets him go. Bucky scowls, but Steve just smiles. "That was a low blow, Rogers."

"Course it was. I gotta do anything I can to make up for my size."

Bucky narrows his eyes. "You better not try that on me tomorrow."

"Why not?" Steve smirks. "You worried about trying to impress the ladies?"

"Ain't the ladies I want to impress," he fires back in their familiar patterns.

Steve raises his eyebrows. " _Is_ there someone you want to impress?" he asks seriously.

Bucky shakes his head; there isn't, really. He maybe wanted to impress Sam, the very first time they met, but that feeling passed weeks ago, settling into an easy friendship. "No."

They lie on the mats silently for a while before Steve says, "Nervous?"

"A little," Bucky admits.

"Almost anti-climactic, that we'd go through all this training, and tomorrow we'll have one sparring session that'll decide whether or not we're actually going to be pilots."

"Yeah."

Neither of them speak again for a long time and Bucky glances over to make sure Steve's still awake. He is, looking back at Bucky with a happy smile on his face.

"Guess we should get some sleep." Steve stands and offers a hand, helping him up.

They walk back to the dorms, stopping outside Bucky's door. "See you in the morning, Buck."

"Night, Stevie."

Bucky's asleep almost before his head hits the pillow.

*

Bucky barely eats any breakfast, too jittery with anticipation to concentrate on his food, let alone try to keep it down. Everyone else seems to be in the same state, Steve staring blankly at his pickled radishes, Carol pushing her food in circles on her plate. When they've all been sitting in nervous silence for twenty minutes, Bucky finally stands and says, "Can we just get this damn thing over with?"

That seems to break some of the tension, and the three of them push away from the table, dumping their food before heading toward the Kwoon. They'll be early, but the three of them all figure it's better than poking at their food for another thirty minutes.

They're not the only people in the Kwoon stadium; they arrive to find Agent Carter and a man Bucky recognizes as General (now, technically, Marshal) Phillips presiding over a match between Natasha Romanova and Yelena Belova, the pilots of _Banshee Zulu_ , an old Russian Jaeger. The two of them are a flurry of motion on the mats, moving so quickly that the only way Bucky can tell them apart is the color of their hair. They end their bout by some silent agreement, the two of them flowing to a stop before unfolding from their positions, bowing to the Marshal, and stepping off the mat together before heading toward the showers.

Bucky, Steve, and Carol's presence is noted then, and Agent Carter gives Bucky an unreadable look.

"You three!" Marshal Phillips calls. "Come here."

They make their way down to the ring, coming to stand like chagrined children in front of him.

"Marshal," says Agent Carter, "may I introduce to you Ranger Barnes, Ranger Danvers, and Ranger Rogers. Rangers, your marshal."

They let out a chorus of hellos, and the marshal grunts at them. "You might as well take seats," Phillips says, nodding to the rows of seats behind them. "We're not starting early even if you're already here."

They sit down, Bucky staring at his hands, Carol tapping her feet, Steve chewing at his fingernails again. The silence is starting to draw out uncomfortably, and just when Bucky thinks he won't be able to stand it any more, Barton and Rand wander in, chatting loudly. They seem to signal the breaking of the dam, and soon, all of the pilots-in-training are filling the Kwoon with somewhat awkward chatter.

A gong sounds, drawing everyone to silence, and Agent Carter announces, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Kwoon trials. It's a long day, but by the end of it, some of you will be added to the ranks of Jaeger pilots." Her speech continues, and she carries on about the trials and tribulations of being Jaeger pilots and how the Kwoon helps determine who is or isn't Drift compatible. Bucky mostly tunes it out--it's nothing they haven't heard in their training--and then Carter says, "For our first trial, Ranger Rogers will match Ranger Barnes."

Bucky takes a deep breath and leans down to unlace his shoes. He takes the offered bo staff from an attendant and steps onto the mat, eyeing Steve on the other side.

They go through the opening motions, and then, without any discussion--without even thinking about it--they both toss the bo staffs aside. They're supposed to go for points--four strikes to win--but he and Steve have never quite done anything by the book. Steve moves in lightning-quick, reaching up for a palm strike at Bucky's chin, but Bucky leans back and smacks him upside the head.

He distantly hears Carter call out, "One to Barnes," and Steve is already ducking inside his reach, using one of his pointy elbows to strike a blow to his stomach.

"Oof," Bucky breathes, but uses it to pull Steve close and goose him.

"Hey!" Steve squawks, pulling his right arm back in a classic haymaker.

Bucky should know better than to let Steve's wild swing distract him, but he automatically brings his left arm up to block it, and Steve gets him in the left solar plexus. Bucky gets both of Steve's arms into a lock, but Steve hooks a leg around Bucky's, knocking them to the floor.

They grapple for a few minutes, Steve settling his weight on Bucky's waist until Bucky manages to twist around, flipping them. His plan of escape doesn't work, because Steve pulls him into a triangle lock, quickly getting Bucky caught between his thighs.

Bucky's vision is going blurry when he finally smacks at Steve's arm, and Steve releases him immediately.

"You alright, Buck?"

Bucky takes a couple deep breaths. "Fine." He gets up and helps Steve up as well. The rest of the recruits are cheering as they turn to bow at the Marshal, but Bucky notices Carter's perturbed look.

"The match is a draw," she announces, and though Bucky's sure she's pissed at their lack of propriety, she doesn't let it show.

The two of them are ushered to the sidelines where Marshal Phillips, Agent Carter, and Romanova and Belova are seated. Bucky wonders if they're going to give them their assignment (or a dressing-down) right then and there, but Carter simply indicates two empty chairs to her right. They sit and turn toward the mats to watch the rest of the trials.

The mysterious Lt. Col. James Rhodes is next, of course, and Carter calls up his first partner, a Logan Howlett who looks a bit like a caveman. Bucky isn't sure exactly what the marshal and Carter are looking for in potential partners, but it's clear Rhodes and Howlett don't have it. There's no smoothness to their fight; it's all jerky motions like neither of them are sure what they're doing. They're both obviously good fighters, but there's no cohesion in their movement, and the bout is over quickly.

Rhodes' second bout is similar, though it lasts a bit longer than the first. The girl is pretty fierce, but she's definitely outmatched by Rhodes. He takes her down in a single smooth motion and immediately helps her up. They bow to each other, and then Carter calls up Carol.

There's a lengthy pause, and Bucky looks out over the crowd, trying to find Carol's shock of blonde hair. Carter calls her name again, and then Carol stumbles onto the mat, face a little flushed as she toes off her shoes.

Bucky sees her take a deep breath and hears her say, "Come at me, bro," before slipping into position.

Rhodes throws his head back and laughs before moving into position himself.

Their bout is a thing of beauty, and they practically dance across the floor. They match each other shot-for-shot, anticipating each other's moves as they work through the training patterns.

They're tied at three points each when Carol suddenly switches tactics, moving into something Bucky hasn't seen her do before. Rhodes leans into it, nearly tipping her balance, but she uses his momentum to knock him off his feet, bringing her staff to rest just below his chin. "Four," she crows, and Rhodes grins up at her.

She offers her hand, and the two of them turn to bow at the panel before taking seats beside Bucky and Steve.

"He's not so bad, huh?" Bucky whispers to Carol as the next set take their positions on the mat.

"Eh, I've seen better," she says back.

Bucky leans across her to introduce himself to Rhodes. "I'm Bucky. We've been hearing this one complain about your position in the standings for the last three months, so it's good to finally meet the mysterious James Rhodes."

Rhodes grins. "Please, call me Rhodey. And likewise."

"Shhh!" Steve hisses from Bucky's elbow. "I'm trying to watch the trials."

They all mutter apologies and turn back to the trials, which go by in a blur of motion.

When they break for lunch, Steve disappears as Bucky, Carol, and Rhodey head for the mess hall. He reappears halfway through the hour-long break, slightly flushed and with a plate piled high with the suspicious-looking noodles from the mess line. Bucky wordlessly hands over half his sticky rice, which Steve takes with a grateful look.

"Where you been, Steve-o?" Carol asks, interrupting her own story about her work at NASA.

Bucky doesn't miss the way Steve stuffs rice in his mouth and chews slowly before he says, "Talked to Maria. She wanted to know how the trials went."

Even Carol has the tact not to point out that it's nearly midnight in Peru, where the tech corps's trials are being held.

Steve swallows. "She says congratulations, by the way."

Carol preens while Bucky eyes Steve and makes a gesture indicating that they are going to _have words_ later. Steve furtively looks away; message received.

The afternoon is spent watching more trials, Steve providing commentary on people's bad form, having lost his need for focus to the boredom of endless sparring matches. At one point, Bucky notices Agent Carter smirking at them. He kind of wishes he hadn't promised Steve he wouldn't punch her, but he supposes it's better for everyone if he just pretends not to see her.

The matches end before dinner, which gives Bucky plenty of time to pester Steve about his chat with Maria.

"So what _did_ you need to say to Maria that couldn't wait until we're back in Seattle?" he asks as they walk toward the mess hall.

"Promised her I'd let her know how we did, that's all."

"Uh-huh. Because she couldn't figure out on her own that we'd be matched."

"Shut up, Bucky," he mutters, scarlet flush spreading over his face.

"Hey, I'm just saying," he teases, but when Steve hunches his shoulders, he pulls back. "She have any news about her own trials?"

"Sounded like they went pretty well. She was on a team with people from Ensenada and Davao. Doesn't know where she'll be assigned yet." Steve scuffs his shoes as they walk.

" _Nobody_ knows where they'll be assigned yet," Bucky points out. "They might ship all of us back to Seattle and make it a new Dome."

"God, I hope not," Steve says fervently. "I'm sick of Seattle. Anywhere but Seattle."

*

They don't go back to Seattle. They're assigned to Anchorage, one of the new Domes, which Bucky thinks might be Agent Carter's parting gift to him, sending them to the ass-end of nowhere.

Steve is ecstatic, which probably has more to do with the fact that both Sam and Maria are going to be in Anchorage, too, than it does that Steve cares one way or the other about Alaska. Bucky's happy for him, not least because he was worried about Steve's overall well-being if they'd wound up separated from Hill.

They land in Alaska on a shockingly sunny day a week after the Kwoon trials, light reflecting off the snow on the mountains. The Dome has a mostly skeleton crew, still in the final stages of construction. The veteran Jaeger team who've been assigned to mentor them haven't arrived yet, but Sam and Maria are waiting for them on the tarmac. There isn't any slow-motion running, but Steve and Maria hug for just a little longer than is strictly friendly.

Bucky decides he can tease them about it later, eager to get out of the chilly wind and to explore their new home.

"This place is top of the line!" Sam crows, as he leads them inside. "No more four-to-a-room--we've all got our own bunks, even if they're tiny--and the grub is _sweet_. Yesterday--should I tell them what we had for dinner yesterday, Maria, or do you wanna?"

"King crab legs," Maria says. "And they were every bit as good as Sam's about to tell you."

They all laugh at that, and the rest of the evening is spent catching up over crab chowder before Bucky and Steve both collapse into their bunks, exhausted.

*

The next morning, there's a knock on his door, and Bucky is surprised to find Maria on the other side when he opens it.

"Someone was supposed to wake you three hours ago, but Lt. May's the officer-in-command right now, and she said to let you guys sleep. You were both falling asleep in your soup last night, so I didn't really get a chance to tell you-- your Jaeger's here, and she's ready for testing."

Maria's words take Bucky's breath away. He knew they'd be getting a Jaeger--of course they would, that's what they were here for--but he didn't know it would be so soon.

"You wake Steve yet?"

Maria blushes. "Yeah. He's getting dressed."

Bucky tries to hide his smirk; Steve has a tendency to sleep in nothing but his shorts and it takes him a good twenty minutes to fully wake up. He probably didn't even register what he was doing until he had the door open. "They got breakfast in the mess?"

"Keeping it warm for you."

"Be there in five."

Maria nods and turns to go.

"Hey, Hill?" Bucky calls after her. She turns, eyebrow lifted in question. "Who blushed more, you or him?"

"Fuck you, Barnes," she calls back, but she can't hide the laugh in her voice.

*

May lets them finish their breakfast before she interrupts their morning. "The Wakandas and _Rescue Delta_ will arrive later this week, but before they do, I want to formally introduce you two to your team and your Jaeger."

Steve and Bucky look at each other before turning back to her. "Yes ma'am," they both say.

"You want us to do that now?" Steve asks, sounding like he's gonna burst from excitement.

"If you're done eating," she says.

"Oh, we're done," Steve answers, pushing away from the table and gathering up trays even as Bucky tries to snatch a couple final bites of his oatmeal.

"Come to the bridge when you've cleared the table. Five minutes."

They nod in agreement, and Steve hurriedly takes the trays to the kitchens.

When he comes back, Bucky slings an arm over his shoulders and says, "You sure we're ready for this?"

"Think I'm gonna be sick, Buck," Steve confesses.

"Just breathe, okay?"

"Yeah, I know. It's just--"

Bucky squeezes his shoulder. "I know."

There's a team of ten waiting for them when they reach the bridge. Lt. May introduces all of them, but Bucky knows he'll have to ask everyone who they are at least three more times before he gets them down. Sam's going to be their LOCCENT Officer, the contact between Command and their Jaeger. Maria, Bucky's pleased to note, is the J-Tech commander, in charge of the munitions and maintenance on their Jaeger.

When May finishes the introductions, she says, "Any questions?"

Bucky thinks it's supposed to be rhetorical, but Steve whispers, "Is that her?"

He's staring out the window of the LOCCENT bridge at a gleaming red-and-blue beauty. Her nuclear core gleams white in the shape of a star, a motif mirrored in the red stars on her shoulders. She's beautiful. Perfect. Bucky's not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't this.

"That's _Liberty Sentinel_ ," May's saying, but her voice sounds far away. "She's all yours."

"Can we--" Bucky coughs and starts again. "When do we test her out?"

"She's ready when you are."

May nods at Maria, who turns to her crew and says, "Let's suit up."

Bucky and Steve are ushered down the hall and helped into their new Jaeger suits. It feels like this should take far longer than it does, but they're ready to go within thirty minutes. Maria meets them outside the bridge and leads them to the Jaeger's hub.

"You won't have access to the weapons in this drop," she explains as they walk around the console, doing their routine checks, "but you should be able to walk through some formations before we take you back offline."

"What sort of formations?" Steve asks. He looks--different in his suit, a powerful presence, and Bucky thinks he really was born for this.

Maria's grinning at them both. "She's designed to be a brawler, quick motions, lightning fast on offense, steady on defense. I wrote it into her code myself."

" _Liberty Sentinel_ ," Sam's voice over the comms system startles all three of them, "are you ready to rumble?" He draws out _rumble_ like Michael Buffer at his peak.

"Wilson!" snaps May's voice in the background noise. "That is not protocol!"

"Sorry," he murmurs, and then louder, " _Liberty Sentinel_ , ready for Lock?"

"Ready for Lock." Maria turns to Bucky and Steve. "Your places, please."

The two of them quickly move into place, Steve on the right, Bucky on the left. The J-Tech team locks them in place, screwing the neural plates into the backs of their suits, before exiting the hub. The door seals behind Hill, and Bucky takes a deep breath.

"Nervous?" Steve asks.

"A little."

"Me too."

"All clear," Maria calls over the comms, echoing in Bucky's helmet.

"Gentlemen," says Sam's voice over the comms, "neural handshake in five… four… three… two…"

On the one-count, there's a jolt and then a feeling like that first drop on the Cyclone, Bucky's stomach and heart and lungs floating somewhere around his ears.

 _His eyes are shut, but he can smell the fish-rot from the clam shack, feel the salt air as it fills his lungs. He opens his mouth to scream with the thrill of it, reaches over to_ _grab hands, how the hell did he get me to do this, I'm gonna be sick_ \--

 _They're ten years old, in that four-month space between their birthdays when Bucky catches up to Steve in years_. _It's Memorial Day weekend, fireworks over Coney Island, Brooklyn Bridge ablaze in color--_

_September 2001, wrapped around each other as they watch the towers fall along with the rest of their class--_

_Joseph Rogers, in the National Guard, never comes home and they bury an empty coffin on an overcast day in early October--_

_Bucky's acceptance letter from CUNY, his first day of class, the pretty girl who sat beside him and said her name was Bernie--_

_Bucky telling Steve he might be gay or maybe bi, is that the right word? and Steve wrinkling his nose and asking are you saying you have a crush on me and Bucky laughs and punches his arm and says ew gross that would be weird--_

_Thanksgiving in the Barnes household, Sarah Rogers' apple cake and Ruth Barnes' green bean casserole, Becca squawking in disgust when Bucky shovels a mouthful of potatoes and cranberry sauce in his mouth, the sweet/sour/salt delicious on his tongue--_

_Midnight in the Village, the night after graduation, wandering the streets just to be out, stride cut short because it's been a long day and Steve won't ever say it but he's exhausted, they both are, and so--_

_The crack of a bat, the gleeful shouts of fans, the line-drive aiming straight for Steve's head--_

_Lady Gaga announces she was born this way, and they grin at each other, whirling dervishes of light and color all around them, Steve trying to roll his eyes and failing, Bucky bouncing on his feet, closing his eyes, singing along--_

_Bucky's first kiss, with Leo Stansbury behind the rectory at St. Teresa's, all awkward lips and noses and the worry of being caught--_

_Steve's first kiss, with Becca after prom--_

_He opens his eyes, sitting low, leg sticking to the left side of the car, colors a little dim, images blurry because he's nearsighted, of course, and his contacts aren't the right prescription because he forgot to make an appointment--_

_In seconds, they're coming into the last curve, and the ride's over._

"Whoa," Bucky breathes out, or maybe it's Steve, or maybe it's both of them in tandem.

[end]

**Author's Note:**

> This story would not have been possible without the encouragement of a laundry list of people: tielan and JadeCharmer were my first enablers, back when it was going to be a straight-up reworking of _Pacific Rim_ ; allofthefandoms and Uchidachi were fantastic cheerleaders when the going got tough; and this would be a much weaker story without the excellent work of my betas, sevenfoxes and Aenaria, who didn't cut me any slack on character development and assured me that Bucky sounded sufficiently Brooklyn.
> 
> *
> 
> A note on the title: "sahel" is the Arabic word for "shoreline."


End file.
